


If My Memory is Off

by kg613



Category: Supergirl
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 07:06:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kg613/pseuds/kg613
Summary: Lena is introspective.





	If My Memory is Off

It started when I beat him at chess. I was young, I’d just started living there. I was maybe 9 - ten if my memory is off - and it could be. 

His fist hit the edge of the table. I didn’t flinch. Not that time. Not then. I’d experienced rage - even then - I knew anger, or I thought I did. 

-

When I was 16, I kissed a girl. I’d been shipped off to a boarding school. When I got home, I told him in confidence. 

He told Mother the next day. He smirked when he said it.

She wasn’t supportive. Or kind. She didn’t give me advice on how to date a girl. She curled her lip and turned away. 

She didn’t look at me in the eye for two years. 

-

We didn’t speak for years. 

-

Between dissertation and defense I got a call from him. I was stressed. I cringed when I saw the notification. I called him back once I finished my dis and he didn’t answer.

It probably wasn’t important. 

-

When the accusations came, I wasn’t shocked. I knew he wasn’t acting above board (or even legal if we’re being honest, but Mother wouldn’t have done anything and I was powerless). 

I was powerless. 

I had no power. 

I couldn’t stop him. 

I couldn’t change him. 

I couldn’t stand up. 

What could I do? 

I should have done more. 

-

The bullet stopped before it found home in my brain - ended my life then and there. 

But it didn’t. The Girl looked at me with pity, with anguish when she found out it was Him. 

I never understood pity. 

-

The Girl and I became friends. We had lunches and dinners and happy hours and game nights. We shared wine and potstickers and the occasional late-night secret, but only if I was feeling up to it. 

Her sister though, she knew things. 

-

She knew the standard I had to lived up to. She appreciated the fist on the chess board and the depth of inadequacy. 

She understood a mother’s failure to make eye contact. 

She understood. 

-

When lips met, she ravished with impunity. She took all I had to give and found solace in the silence. 

The morning after she picked up the bottles and covered my body with the sheets. 

She kissed me delicately on the head and stood over me, waiting to see if I’d stop feigning sleep.

I didn’t. 

She sighed and left. 

-

I remember when I was 9 years old - ten if my memory is off. 

I knew rage, intimately. I knew anger. And disappointment. I knew regret and failure. 

I wonder: could this be what love feels like?


End file.
